He stopped at the first bar he saw, went in, and sat in the far corner of the last booth.By the time he finished his second drink he had stopped shaking and was able to think with some degree of clarity. And the more clearly he saw things, the worse they became. Not that he doubted his sanity — now. But he was afraid of what might happen.Conway had gone through the war until two days before it ended. Then something gave way. The men called it shell shock, and the doctors called it combat fatigue, but in any language it was a crack-up. It got him back to a hospital in the States in a hurry, and before he was discharged, six months later, the doctor had given him the final word.“You’re okay,” he had said. “You’re okay now, and you’ll continue to be. Just don’t worry. Don’t worry, don’t let things get you down. Don’t let yourself get too excited, or fly off the handle, or get in a rage. That’s good advice for anybody — reduces the danger of ulcers, among other things.
